


Isabella, Sweet Isabella

by DixieDale



Category: Garrison's Gorillas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-18
Updated: 2018-11-18
Packaged: 2019-08-25 15:22:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16663339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DixieDale/pseuds/DixieDale
Summary: It was as if Fate itself was conspiring against them.  Lynn Garrison and Actor had finally opened their eyes, realized they were meant for each other.  Somehow, though, that celebratory dinner devolved into a disaster when a lovely woman showed up at their table, calling Actor 'husband'.This is the wrap-around story for the Lynn/Actor scene in previous vignette 'Unspoken'.





	Isabella, Sweet Isabella

Lynn hadn't even noticed the elegant beauty standing at the entrance to the dining room at Hotel Marchant, but she DID notice the shock and apprehension on Actor's face. Glancing around, she saw the dark haired, olive-skinned woman in the fashionable outfit headed directly toward their table. Inwardly she sighed. She'd know it would be like this, accepted it. After all, Actor had a black book of some renown, and probably a goodly number of other women in his history who weren't even listed in that volume. The team had regaled her with stories, and she'd seen enough with her own eyes to know that. 

Still, he was hers now; that had been decided. It was just a matter of how determined, how pleasant or unpleasant this woman would be upon finding out Actor was no longer available. She brought a confident, gracious smile to her face, a smile that faded almost immediately with the first words spoken by the woman now standing at their table.

"Angelo! Husband! I can hardly believe it! I had not thought to see you until later in the week! Ai, husband, I swear, you get more handsome all the time!" 

Actor took far too long to rise and answer her, his mind whirling at this very unfortunate turn of events. Still, rise he did, and introductions were made. "Lynn, this is Isabella. Isabella, Lynn Garrison." 

The tall brunette gracefully sank into the chair opposite Actor, seemingly not noticing Lynn's stunned expression. An expression that became even more than stunned when, in the midst of a great deal of chatter about the traveling conditions, people she'd seen recently, Isabella dropped the laughing comment, "I have always thought it unfortunate our daughter Angelina takes solely after me. Or at least to my eyes; there are others who says she has her father's chin, which is perhaps true. You must judge for yourself, of course, when you meet her. She should be here in just a few minutes; she pulled a hem and wanted to repair it. I offered to help, but young people, so independent once they reach a certain age. At nineteen, she seems to think her mother superfluous at times. Perhaps you can see more clearly Angelo's influence once she arrives. I would be delighted to have the opinion of one of Angelo's acquaintances." 

Actor wasn't surprised when Lynn made her excuses, pleading a severe headache, and rose and left the room. He WAS surprised when a suddenly serious Isabella asked to see him in private, that she simply had to talk to him, beg his assistance. It seems he had more than one set of problems to deal with.

Lynn obtained her key to their room in the private section, not wanting to see or speak with anyone. A wife. A daughter. Perhaps that very young woman she'd just passed in the downstairs lobby; she did look a lot like Isabella. Lynn saw no hint of Actor in the young woman's face. She watched as the young woman hadn't headed for the main dining room as Lynn had expected, but to the library at the opposite side. Somehow, she found herself turning, following after, pausing in the open doorway. Angelina, if it was Angelina, was standing quite still, surveying the array of books on the shelves lining the room, and Lynn asked, "were you looking for the dining room? It's at the other end of the way." She didn't know why she'd followed, why she'd spoken, was a little annoyed with herself for doing either. 

"Oh, no. I've already eaten; we, my mother and myself, ate in our room earlier. It is just that she needed to speak with someone on business, and I heard there was a library, so I slipped out of the room to see. She will not be happy with me, I'm sure, but I finished my last book last evening, and . . . ". She really was a pretty young woman, and that smile was charming, not in a studied, calculating way, but in a very natural way. Lynn hesitated, but then just gave up and introduced herself, getting confirmation that this, indeed, was Angelina.

"I do understand, but although Marchant's is a very superior hotel, it's best not to be in one of the side rooms alone in the evening. There is just too much traffic, and you never know about strangers. Do you know what you are looking for? I'll wait while you choose something, then walk back to your room with you. I'm on the third floor; you are where?"

"Oh, we are on the second. And I know what I'm looking for, a book of poetry." Lynn nodded, and directed the way to that section, being quite familiar with what Henri Marchant made available here. It took only a few minutes, and Angelina had two books gripped tightly in her hands. 

"Will they mind if I take them to my room? I will be very careful with them," she asked, suddenly realizing the books might be meant to be enjoyed only here, at that table, or in those overstuffed chairs.

"Don't worry, we'll let Michel know; he's at the Front Desk and he knows me; he'll be fine." Together they left the library, pausing only to let Michel know Angelina had borrowed two books, and Lynn walked the young woman back to her room. "Remember to lock the door when you get in," she cautioned, and waited til she heard that click before she made her way to her own room.

She still didn't know why she'd gone out of her way like that. Was it because she wanted a closer look at Actor's daughter? Was it because she felt protective, since it really WAS a bad idea to venture off alone like that with so many strangers in and out? She didn't know, and now found herself even more depressed that before. 

"Wife. Daughter. Damn it, Actor!" Just where did that leave her, Lynn Garrison, idiot, fool, who had only that evening been asked to take on the role of wife to the tall Italian con man, with her accepting so gladly. Were there stronger words than 'idiot', 'fool'?? Surely she epitomized them, whatever they were. She'd been so careful, not giving her heart til she'd been sure of his. How had this happened? And where was she to go from here? 

She poured herself a drink, and sank down into a chair, to think, to wonder about their future. {"Surely he will have an explanation!"}. She snorted in disgust. {"Well, of COURSE he will have an explanation. He's Actor, after all. The question is, will the explanation he gives me be the truth? And, truth or lie, will it be something I can live with?"}

 

Why, after all this time, had Isabella shown up, Angelina in tow? Actor listened, trying to make sense of the tangled story a frantic Isabella was telling him.

From the strain in Isabella's voice, it had all been a nightmare, even if somewhat of a fluke. Now that Peadar was dead, his two second-cousins, Tamas and Pietro had inherited. A chance glimpse of Isabella and Angelina on a trip to Geneva caught Tamas' attention; he remembered Isabella quite well, remembered Peadar had boasted of his seducing the young girl. Angelina looked like Isabella, yes, but she also looked a great deal like Peadar, possibly her blood father. Well, that was only to be expected, since Isabella and Peadar had been first cousins and shared the same bloodlines. Now, Tamas was worried, since his family was one of the few that allowed a female child, even illegitimate, to share in an inheritance. 

Isabella poured out her concerns. "He doesn't seem to know, or at least I could not tell, whether he's worried we might place a claim and make his portion smaller, or whether he wants to claim a greater share than he would get otherwise; he made some sly hints about Angelina being of marriageable age. If they married and he could successfully claim her to be Peadar's daughter, he would be in control of the greater portion of the entire estate. Angelo, I'm worried; she has seen him or his agents following her, enough I now send two servants with her everywhere. I can only hope no one got close enough to speak with her, reveal things best left alone. So she goes guarded. But that is no way to live your life. Did we go through all that so many years ago for him to steal her freedom now? I denied everything, of course, when he approached me, but I could tell he didn't believe me."

"And you wish me to do what? The marriage papers are in your hands, as is her birth certificate. But remember, the public notice of my death is also available. What am I to do, resurrect myself? Convince him she IS my daughter? That I left the two of you all those years ago, faked my own death for some reason known only to myself?" Actor asked, still trying to make heads or tails of what she had told him.

"I don't know WHAT I want you to do, Angelo!!" she cried. "Only, you are the only one who has ever helped me, has never failed me, and I could think of no one else. Your man of business was reluctant, but did give me your direction once I convinced him of the seriousness of this." 

If nothing else, that convinced Actor that he needed to have a serious talk with his current man of business handling the 'Isabella' connection; his location was not supposed to be divulged without his express permission. Still, in this case, he WOULD have allowed it, so he sat that aside for the moment.

It had been complicated, back then, but he thought he'd covered all the foreseeable contingencies. Isabella had saved his life; it had seemed only honorable that he save hers in return. Oh, not literally, probably, not in the way she had saved his. But she was alone, frightened and on the run, pregnant with the child of a man who would never protect her, acknowledge his child, might even seek to cause harm to the both of them in order to protect his own reputation and future. Even among the upper classes, seducing and impregnating a much younger, teenage cousin was not considered appropriate behavior, especially when you were already engaged to the very wealthy, very influential daughter of another leading family. 

Actor, going by the name of Angelo Petrolino back then, well, he had no other claims on him. Surely he could offer this small amount of protection. Especially when the paperwork, all looking quite authentic of course, was merely a brilliantly-rendered fake, even back-dated far enough for it to appear they had been married long enough for the child to be his. She had been out of the public eye for quite some time, first hidden away by Peadar in a small residence, then while on the run trying to escape from him. 

The birth certificate, for Angelina Maria Josephina Petrolino, born several months later, WAS quite real, issued by the small hospital where Isabella gave birth, even if the name of the father on that certificate wasn't the name of the man who had sired her, or even the real name of the man who had protected her and her mother. 

Still, it was enough, that along with the house owned by the young but obviously well-to-do Angelo Petrolino, soon to be owned by his bereaved young widow, occupied by said widow and their sweet daughter, and provided for by the funds that arrived regularly. Isabella wondered, sometimes, about the kind man who'd rescued her, given her this security, and, looking at her daughter, could only hope he'd found the good life he deserved. 

As for her daughter, she told her Angelina sweet lies about the good, kind man her father had been, and how handsome he had been, and how much he had loved the both of them, all the way to the day of his death. Well, they were partially lies, in that Peadar hadn't been either of those first two things, neither good nor kind, though the third was true, and as for the last? Isabella had shuddered, knowing that if Peadar had had his way, it was likely neither she nor Angelina would be alive. And as for the day of his death? She'd read the death notice with a huge sigh of relief, knowing she'd always worried, just a little, about him reappearing in her life. 

Actor had never expected to see either of them again; oh, he'd arranged for funds to support them, but that was handled through one of his many 'men of business'. The money was of no matter; he'd always had the knack for coming up with what was needed. Later, when war threatened, he'd arranged for their removal to another of his properties, in Switzerland, where they hopefully would be safer. Other than that, truthfully, he hadn't thought about them in years, certainly never expected to have Isabella walk up to his table that evening.

The years had been kind; she was a very lovely woman, and he wouldn't have minded the meeting, except for the presence of Lynn Garrison, the woman who now shared his bed; the woman he had just asked to become his wife. This was supposed to be a very special dinner, one celebrating their future together. Now, was it the dinner that would mark the end to any chance they had for that outcome?

The conversation with Lynn was, as he'd fully expected, difficult. He'd told her the story, she'd seemed to believe. Or maybe, she seemed to ACCEPT the story, decide not to challenge the truth of it. But the pain in her eyes, that was apparent, and he only hoped this encounter hadn't caused irreparable damage to a relationship so unexpected, yet so fulfilling. 

The others from The Cottages were in London as well, other than Craig, who was back in New York for negotiations with a new client. The others were also here at Hotel Marchant, and a quick phone call had Meghada at his door in quick order. He raised his brows, "I'm surprised Goniff allowed you to come without him, though I certainly appreciate your coming alone; this is a matter of some delicacy," surprised at his own lack of tact in that 'allowed you'. {"That was a stupid thing to say; I must be even more upset at all of this than I thought!"} Actually, Goniff didn't 'allow' Meghada to do anything, of course; oh, there were certainly discussions, but she made up her own mind about things. She always had.

"Oh, he's right behind me, just stopped to grab something from the kitchen. After all, we finished dinner all of an hour and a half ago; he was starting to feel peckish," she grinned, watching Actor's look of frustration at the news, not sure he wanted the chattery and blatantly declasse man in on this uncomfortable situation. Still, he poured the redhead a drink and waited for the arrival of the slender blond with whatever tidbits he'd managed to snaffle.

"And I don't really know why I am involving you, except that I am at a loss. You are as devious as Craig, or Goniff, here" getting a grin of agreement from the pair seated across from him.

"So, tell me, why WOULD I (if I really had married Isabella and had a child with her) have left her, faked my death, but still supported her and Angelina all these years? What story would convice this Tamas Acarno? It is rather embarrassing to admit, but I haven't the vaguest idea! And as tempting as it is to take the easy way out, allowing Angelo to indeed have died, bringing in a twin brother to the deceased Angelo is just too much like something from a French farce. The concept has been used by every hack writer around, and I rather doubt he would believe it."

Meghada sat back, considered, and Actor was relieved to see the sly, even wicked grin start to build on her face when Goniff reached over to murmur just a few words in her ear. 

"Just how badly can I tarnish the reputation of Angelo Petrolino, Actor?" she asked.

"Whatever it takes, Meghada, as long as it does not ally me with Mussolini or Hitler or one of their ilk. It's not a name I use anymore, of course, but I don't want to stain it for Isabella's sake, nor for Angelina's."

{"Perhaps I could call in a favor long overdue, a favor from Uncle Neal and Uncle David. After all, Uncle Neal is a friend of Actor's from some early, probably dubious days."} "How about Uncle Neal? Would you be willing to be 'allied' with him and Uncle David and those of HIS ilk?" 

Actor's eyes were puzzled, then he burst into laughter. "You Brat!!! Yes, that just might work!" 

She held out her glass so that Actor could refill it. "So, let's form a broad outline, and then we can go back and fill in the details."

***

Angelo Petrolino, or whatever the man was calling himself these days, sat in smug elegance in the fine mansion on the outskirts of Mayfair, sipping at the excellent brandy he swirled gently in the exquisitely cut Waterford brandy snifter.

"No, no, not mine, certainly. It belongs to my friend, David; he has several such residences - well, his family does. He sent me ahead while he made a stop, some tiresome business he had to take care of. He should be arriving later this evening. Am I staying long? Oh, no, London is all very well for a few days, when truly necessary, but hardly someplace we'd stay for very long. It gets awkward, you see, which is quite a bore."

He stopped to take a serene puff on his lovingly-polished pipe, the aroma of the rich tobacco exclaiming its expensive price tag, himself resplendent in a burgundy silk brocade smoking jacket and deeply patterned ascot, jeweled rings on several of his long fingers.

Tamas Acarno lifted an inquiring brow, "awkward? In what sense, if I might be so inquisitive?" He took a long look around the elegant room, remembering the equally-elegant rooms he'd seen on his way from the front door to this room at the rear of the house. 'Awkward' was not a word he would have associated with obviously well-to-do private accommodations like this, inhaling the rich perfume from his own glass before taking an appreciative sip.

Angelo sighed deeply, shaking his head sadly, "David has many friends locally, and when it is known he is in town, he is literally showered with invitations for social engagements. He is quite a favorite with everyone, especially the ladies, as they deem him quite eligible. Quite uncomfortable, you might say. Rather spoils our time here." 

Tamas frowned, not understanding, but persisting. "And he, you, do not enjoy social engagements?"

"Oh, we do, certainly, but here we are not as free to, well, be ourselves, as we are elsewhere. It would be uncomfortable for me if I accompanied him and watched him be swarmed by all the lovelies; he is uncomfortable pretending I do not exist or at least as anything other than simply a congenial friend, so, for the most part, he declines the invitations. We have found that that works well enough for a very few days, but after that, people start arriving at the door, and that can be both uncomfortable AND awkward. You must understand that," Angelo smiled, letting the con draw his visitor further in.

Well, no, actually Tamas didn't understand at all, but decided to turn the subject to Isabella. He was polite, well, as much as he could be when questioning the validity of his host's marriage and the bloodlines of the daughter supposedly born of that marriage. Still, he knew this was the one place he just might be able to get the truth. He was not an overly greedy man, certainly not avaricious, but money was such a NICE thing to have, and MORE money certainly better than LESS money.

Angelo raised a startled brow, obviously wondering how to take such an impertinent delving into his personal life. But he listened while Tamas explained about Peadar, about how there could be a 'slight inheritance' should Angelina be Peadar's natural daughter.

"Yes, I recall dear, sweet, Isabella mentioning something about your mutual cousin pursuing her quite strongly; that is why she left, you know - his attentions were becoming rather inappropriate. But, no, I assure you, Angelina is my daughter. Well, I suppose I do understand your rationalization, with myself disappearing that way, even if it is quite far afield. No, my dear Tamas, if I might be so bold as to address you so familiarly," smiling with an almost predatory smile at his now-uncomfortable guest. 

"My dear Tamas, the fact is, I simply realized I had made a dreadful mistake in marrying. You see, David and I had quarrelled, something about him looking too closely at someone, or maybe it was myself who had done the looking; in any case, he had gone off in a pout and hadn't returned. I waited a few weeks, determined he was not going to return anytime soon, and frankly I was feeling rather resentful and decided . . . Well, I am rather embarrassed to say it, but I decided to show him just how little I cared," waving one hand in a languid gesture. "Ah, to be that young and that foolish!"

"I was slightly acquainted with Isabella, enough to know she was, in effect, alone in the world. She seemed congenial and indeed, was quite sympathetic with my situation once I explained I'd been, ah, I think the term is 'jilted'. And we did try, you know. We were together for some period of time, comfortably enough considering the circumstances, during which Angelina was conceived."

"However, soon after her birth, I realized I simply couldn't continue living a sham. I had received a letter from David, asking me to rejoin him in his travels, and Isabella and I came to a civilized understanding. No, the only 'fraud', if you want to call it that, was my undertaking to have a false announcement of my death placed into the public record, instead of the quite real divorce I obtained. I felt the former would have a less detrimental effect on her reputation than the latter, and I DID want her to be free to remarry, if she so chose. After all, SHE was hardly at fault; she'd done everything a wife could be expected to do, up to and including bearing me a child. No, it was entirely my own doing." Angelo shook his head sadly, remembering his shortcomings. 

"So, Angelo Petrolino 'died', and I became someone quite different. It was better so, for everyone involved. Of course, now, so many years later, I suppose it would be possible to resurrect myself, but really, there would be little benefit, that I can see. Still, if I needed to, I certainly could," Angelo shrugged with calm indifference. It was important not to give the visitor any notion of trying some discreet blackmail; they already had complications enough.

A tap at the door, and the dignified butler, a slender immaculately dressed blond man with sleeked down hair came in. A deep bow, a whispered word, and Angelo simply gleamed with delight. "My dear Tamas, you now have the opportunity to meet David; it appears he has arrived ahead of schedule. He is changing, but will be down shortly."

Tamas Acarno was still digesting the highly unorthodox story he'd been told, the look on his face clearly showing his doubt at what he'd been told, what had perhaps been implied. That doubt was erased in no uncertain terms when a tall well-built late middle-aged man with auburn hair and long, lush sideburns breezed into the room, "my dear! You cannot BELIEVE how tedious the trip was without you! Remind me never to send you on ahead again; I simply cannot BEAR it!" and under Tamas' appalled eyes, David leaned down over the seated man, lovingly grasped those brocade-covered shoulders, and pressed a light kiss to the side of 'Angelo's' upturned smiling mouth. 

Angelo chuckled, "obviously the trip has affected your vision. We have a guest, David. Mind your manners," he chided the newcomer, though with a coy tone to his voice. 

David straighted, seeming to catch sight of the wide-eyed Tomas sitting there, "ah, my apologies. Perhaps an introduction . . ." but he found their guest already on his feet, murmuring quick apologies of his own.

"No, no. I really have to be leaving. I do apologize, Mr. Petrolino, for the misunderstanding."

Angelo tried to convince him to stay, at least for another drink, but obviously wasn't going to have any success. He accompanied Tamas to the door, "one thing, my dear Tamas. I would hope you to be a responsible man of some discretion. I would not like to see anyone I care about troubled in any manner, David, Isabella or Angelina." Tamas looked into those dark eyes, seeing beyond that slightly coy intonation to the sincere threat that lay beneath. He nodded jerkily, "of course, how could it be otherwise? We are, after all, experienced men of the world."

Back in the library, Goniff was helping himself to the brandy while David O'Donnell, older brother to Meghada's mother, was lowering the level in the bourbon decanter into a glass, then reaching for the whiskey decanter to fill another one. 

Ignoring Actor's frown of disapproval at Goniff's pouring the brandy into a whiskey glass, the Englishman asked, "well, do you think the blighter bought it? Could look up some of the blokes I used to know, arrange a little surprise for 'im, if you think it's necessary. More than a few dark alleys around 'ere. Pretty, soft-spoken girl like Angelina, she don't need blokes like that sniffing around, trying to cause trouble."

He took a hearty drink from the glass, watched Actor's face from beneath his eyelashes, watching with a great deal of enjoyment as the tall man stiffened in annoyance. Yes, Goniff knew quite well the difference between a brandy snifter and a whiskey glass, knew brandy was to be sipped, not tossed down like that, too, but he loved that snooty look Actor could get when the 'proprieties' were overlooked.

Actor gave their pickpocket a hard look, "let's wait and see; I sincerely hope that will not be necessary. And I do not know that I like you introducing yourself to Angelina," getting the Englishman's earnest (if not overly truthful) argument, "just passed 'er in the 'allway, Actor; looks just like 'er mum, you know? Sides, 'Gaida, she don't much like me going around introducing myself to pretty little things like that; you'd think she was jealous or something!"

Goniff shrugged, getting a little more serious, "and about the rest, that's your call, mate. Let me know if you change your mind. But you'd better square things with Lynn right quick; looking downright peaky, she is, over all of this. Craig aint gonna be too 'appy about that, and I don't need the aggravation."

David snorted, "well, I think Meghada's taking care of that; said she'd invite the lovely Miss Garrison in for a drink and a little conversation. I'm sure my niece can handle matters quite well; she usually does."

Neal Hargroves, who'd been waiting in the anteroom, was now seated in a deep armchair, still wearing the frown he'd worn since he pushed back that curtain. "Neal, is there a problem?" David inquired, handing over a glass of whiskey.

"Was it really necessary that you KISS him, David??? Surely, that very suggestive dialogue alone would have been enough," giving Actor a rather suspicious glare, and Goniff rolled his eyes at all the drama, seemingly part and parcel with Meghada's uncles. To hear her tell it, it had always been that way, ever since she could remember, even before they'd made a committed match of it, and even more so back then.

"Look, you two, don't you start! You get all pissy with each other, it's gonna get 'Gaida pissy, and there goes the rest of the weekend! Sides, a peck like that aint something to go gettin all bent outta shape over, Neal. 'Gaida gives those out to Casino and Chiefy and even Actor 'ere, all the time; don't see me and Craig getting all worried, do you? Ruddy 'ell, it makes you feel any better, YOU go give Actor a buss on the other side so's the two of you are even!" 

The laughter started, and Neal, rather sheepishly, did exactly that, much to Actor's surprise and annoyance and Goniff's deep down amusement. {"Yeah, gonna 'ave lots to tell the guys. Wonder just 'ow wound up we can get 'im before Craig puts a stop to it??!"}

 

Back at Hotel Marchant, Lynn was listening with wide eyes as the grinning redhead outlined the whole story, and the con put in place to deal with the problem. "And you are sure . . .?" 

"Oh, I have full confidence that Actor's story was truth; I've had a very interesting conversation with Isabella and she confirms it. She added in quite a few other details, all of which are very much to his favor, in fact. He was quite the gallant, you know, without expecting anything in return. He's done far more than most men would have, Lynn, and my respect for him has gone up quite at bit."

"I didn't bring her in on THIS conversation, since I really believe, for everyone's sake, the less anyone makes the connection the better. We are hopeful Signor Acarno will buy the whole illusion and head back home and cease creating difficulties, allowing Isabella and Angelina to resume their lives as before, but still, it does no harm to take precautions. We'd hate for him to spot any shows of affection between you and Actor and have it all blow up in our face. So, you are here with me at the hotel, though in your own room, while Actor will be staying at our safehouse with Uncle David for a few days, with Uncle Neal playing gooseberry. Goniff is playing butler, and he looks absolutely delectable in his livery, I must say. I'm rather sorry to be missing the whole show, for that reason if nothing else."

Lynn laughed then, in sheer relief at having her doubts put to rest. "Well, don't think on that too much, Meghada. You'll be drooling into your drink; you KNOW how you get, and these days will be long enough as it is!" And she laughed again, thinking about the lovely con that was taking place, and how she'd twit Actor about it later. And if he really thought Goniff was going to keep quiet, not tell the guys? Oh, my! 

Lynn had left to go to her own room and glance over the room service menu. Meghada chuckled, then glanced over at the connecting door to the room beyond. "Was that what you wanted to know, my dear?" she said out loud, watched with a slight smile as the door slowly opened. 

"Yes, I believe so, thank you," came in response, along with a warm smile, from the young woman who'd shown up at Meghada's door a couple of hours previously. "You've been ever so helpful. It all makes far more sense than it did before. Mother was always so hesitant to discuss things, and I DID hate to put her in a position of trying to remember what she'd told me before. She's really the sweetest person, the best mother, but has the most dreadful memory, and, well, she really is terrible at lying. I could always tell, even when I was so very little; she has this tiny twitch in the corner of her left eye when she's getting ready to tell a fib. NOW maybe she can relax enough to actually have a sensible conversation about her and Paulo getting married; after all, they can't go on pretending he's just her 'man of business' forever! It's getting embarrassing when we meet in the hall at 2 in the morning! It's not like I'm six any more, actually BELIEVING that he's there because he forgot to have mother to sign the last of the papers, you know. I used to ask mother why she continued to have him as her advisor, if his memory was that poor! Of course, that was when I was still very young; afterwards, it just seemed cruel to mention it at all." 

And in a quiet room on the second floor of Hotel Marchant, after a pleasant dinner, Angelina Maria Josephina Petrolino smiled across the table at her mother and said, "don't you think it's about time we had a little talk, mother? About Paulo, of course, and the possibility of a Christmas wedding for the two of you, but also about 'Angelo', or whatever his real name is. I know a great deal of it, of course, but I DO have some questions. Just how DID you save his life in the first place?" And Isabella, sweet Isabella, stared at her daughter, the truly amused look on the younger woman's face, and was totally speechless.


End file.
